


Critter

by GilliganGoodfellow



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Sexual, Protective Eskel (The Witcher), Protective Vesemir (The Witcher), Vulnerable Lambert (The Witcher), Whump, Witcher Whump Week 2020, render
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27126098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GilliganGoodfellow/pseuds/GilliganGoodfellow
Summary: “I don’t know.” Eskel looks up at his mentor, clearly worried. “He’s never regressed on the path before.”“He’s had a shock.” Vesemir says. “Let him do what he needs to do to protect himself.” He kneels down, smiling at Lambert and stroking the back of his head. “We can keep him safe.”Eskel nods.“Bedtime soon, young man.” Vesemir says, patting Lambert’s shoulder before returning to their supplies, picking up the bedroll and carrying it over to the master bed.
Relationships: Eskel & Lambert (The Witcher), Eskel & Vesemir (The Witcher), Lambert & Vesemir (The Witcher)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 91
Collections: Witcher Whump Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

Eskel sits on the edge of the bed, if the rickety slab of wood can be called such a thing. 

Curled up on his side in the nest of blankets and bedroll, Lambert sleeps peacefully now, Eskel’s hand stroking through his hair. The only sound in the room is his gentle breathing until the older witcher starts to hum, muttering words to a lullaby under his breath. 

Vesemir sits next to his eldest son. “You should get some sleep too, Eskel.”

Eskel shakes his head. “I promised him I’d keep watch.”

Vesemir sighs, before making his way around the bed and climbing in the other side. He curls up behind Lambert, draping his arm over the sleeping Witcher and resting his hand against Lambert’s chest. 

And the precious item that the youngest witcher is holding against it. 

“Wake me in a few hours.” Vesemir commands. “I will take over.”

Eskel nods, still stroking Lambert’s hair as he sits watch. 

“I won’t let anyone hurt him, I promise.” He whispers. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

* * *

The farmhouse is clearly long abandoned, the shed door hanging from a hinge, the well covered in overgrown plants and moss. The ever present stench of rot assaults their senses, but the shelter is still a shelter from the building storm as the three witchers open the front door to the farm house, stepping in and closing it behind them. 

The front room is bare, a chair upturned, the storage having long ago been ransacked by bandits. Empty, smashed beer bottles cover the floor in the corner, where a small discarded cooking pot can be seen. 

A threadbear carpet hangs over the beater, the bottom stained by what might be animal urine, dried and hardened.

Lambert remembers a climbing frame, his mother laughing as he sits on the top, cheering. 

“Well, it’s better than nothing.” Vesemir says, clearing the dining table to one side to make a space in the middle of the room. “That storm will get worse before it gets better.”

Eskel nods as he helps Vesemir empty their supplies. “Good thing we left the horses back at the tavern.”

“They better still be there when we get back.” Lambert opens his own bag, pulling out some food and setting it on the floor. Then he looks around. 

“What are you looking for?” Eskel asks.

“Plates.” And, as if he knows every nook and cranny of the house, he goes straight into the storage rooms. The box on the left hand shelf, nearest the far wall. He’s tall enough to reach them now. And...No…

She’s laid on the floor, mouth open in an endless screen, clothes tattered around skeletal remains. The back of the skull is cracked, hit by the blood stained stone laid under the shelf where Lambert would have found the plates. 

“Urgh.” Eskel says, grimacing as he looks at the corpse over Lambert’s shoulder.

“A young adult.” Vesemir shakes his head as he studies the skull. “Wisdom teeth were still coming through, late teens or early twenties. No claw or bite marks. It was not a monster that did this.”

Eskel snorts. “Sure about that, old man?”

Vesemir chuckles, but then sighs. “Let’s leave the poor child to rest. We don’t need plates.” He stands. “We can bury her when the storm has...Lambert?”

Lambert is trembling.

“Hey, Lamb?” Eskel grabs the younger Witcher’s arm, and he shudders, stumbling out of Eskel’s grip and back into the main room.

“We have to be quiet.”

“Lamb?” 

Lambert wraps his arms around his head. “He’s hurting her. He’s hurting her again.”

And all three Witcher’s feel their medallions hum. 

“No.” Lambert whispers. 

The wraith screams as it bursts through the floor, Vesemir immediately moving to stand between it and the other Witchers, sword already drawn. The Yrden hits the ground and he strikes, the wraith screaming as she flies backwards with the force of the blow, hitting the edge of the yrden trap and screaming again as Eskel strikes with his own sword. She strikes at him, and he barely dodges. 

She raises her hand to strike again. 

And Lambert’s sword pierces her neck.

Moaning as the blade is retracted, the wraith spins round, her lipless grin curling down as an endless rattling emerges from her throat, eyes fixed on the witcher.

And Lambert’s eyes are fixed on hers. 

She reaches out to him...

And Vesemir makes the killing blow, the wraith screaming as she shatters into dust.

* * *

“No.” Lambert moans in his sleep, fidgeting. 

Woken by the movement, Vesemir is quick to respond, whispering in Lambert’s ear while Eskel holds his hand in both of his own.

“That’s it my boy.” Vesemir whispers. “You’re safe. Just a nightmare. Settle down. Settle down.”

As Lambert slips back into a dreamless state, Vesemir lays back down. But his own eyes do not close. They look at Eskel, and the scarred wolf nods. 

They continue their vigil together. 

* * *

Both Eskel and Vesemir startle as Lambert’s sword hits the floor. 

“Lambert.” Concern colours Vesemir’s voice as he steps forward, reaching for the younger Witcher only for Lambert to step back. 

“Quiet now.” Lambert whispers. “It’s safe. It’s quiet. It’s quiet.”

“Lambert?” Eskel doesn’t understand. He knows for a fact that this is not Lambert’s first nightwraith fight. Hell, it isn’t even the hardest nightwraith fight. 

“It’s quiet now.” Lambert says again, his voice taking on a higher pitch as he stumbles out of the room, stepping through a small door to the bedroom, one large bed in the middle of the room, a child’s cot in the corner. 

It is next to this that Lambert kneels, silent as he works his fingers under the edge of a loose floorboard and lifts it, placing it to one side and looking into the hole.

“Critter.” He smiles. “It’s quiet now. We can play.” 

He reaches into the gap, pulling out a small stuffed cat that he quickly cradles against his chest, thumb stroking across the face, lips kissing the top of the ragged toy's head. He keeps his face pressed into the fabric, rocking from side to side for a moment.

“Lambert?”

He looks up suddenly, eyes wide, having apparently forgotten that Eskel is there. He flinches when the older witcher moves, sitting next to him.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Eskel says gently, smiling as he points at the toy. “Can I say hello?”

Lambert flinches again, teeth agitating his bottom lip as he slowly, carefully reaches out with the toy, whimpering slightly when Eskel pats the top of its head with his finger. 

“Hello there, Critter. Is that a little boy cat or a girl?”

“Boy.” Lambert watches him warily, and is quick to snatch the toy back against his chest as soon as Eskel takes his hand away.

The older witcher smiles. “Wasn’t expecting to see  _ you _ tonight, kid.”

The child that looks back at him curls in on himself, before slowly holding the stuffed cat up in front of him, smiling as he moves it from side to side, as if the toy is dancing for him. 

Eskel smiles when Lambert looks at him again, but the expression fades as soon as the boy’s attention turns back to the toy. Moving slowly, he comes to sit next to the little witcher, running a hand up and down his back while Lambert plays.

“Eskel?” Vesemir crosses his arms. 

“I don’t know.” Eskel looks up at his mentor, clearly worried. “He’s never regressed on the path before.”

“He’s had a shock.” Vesemir says. “Let him do what he needs to do to protect himself.” He kneels down, smiling at Lambert and stroking the back of his head. “We can keep him safe.”

Eskel nods.

“Bedtime soon, young man.” Vesemir says, patting Lambert’s shoulder before returning to their supplies, picking up the bedroll and carrying it over to the master bed.

Lambert watches Vesemir, a sad expression claiming his face as he sniffs. He shuffles forward towards the gap in the floor and kisses the toy one last time before lowering it back into the dark alcove.

“Hey?” Eskel stops him, a gentle hand on his wrist. “He’ll get cold in there.”

Lambert shakes his head. 

“You hiding him from someone, kid?”

Lambert nods, whimpering slightly.

“You don’t need to. We won’t let anyone hurt him, I promise. Come on.” He carefully maneuvers Lambert against his chest and stands, walking the boy over to the bed. It is little more than a wooden slab, what mattress there is destroyed by time and damp. 

Vesemir slides the mattress under the bed before replacing it with the bedroll and blankets, making a warm nest for Eskel to sit the younger witcher in. Between them they remove his armour and coat before laying him down and covering him with a blanket. 

Eskel smiles as he makes a point of tucking the edge of the blanket around the toy. A second blanket hides the stuffed cat, and Eskel tucks the blanket around the witcher.

Vesemir steps out of the room.

“We’ll keep watch.” Eskel says, sitting on the edge of the bed and stroking Lambert’s hair while humming. It’s a routine scene now, done so many times in Kaer Morhen, and the simple familiarity of it soon has Lambert feeling safe enough to slip into sleep, the toy still clutched tightly over his heart. 

Returning to the room, Vesemir places a hand on Eskel’s shoulder, and the scarred Witcher nods, resting his hand over Vesemir’s for a moment before returning it to Lambert’s hair, still keeping up the gentle stroking as Vesemir lays down the second bedroll on the bed behind Lambert.

“I placed a blanket over his mother. We’ll bury her remains in the morning. If we show her kindness, rest her spirit, then she won't be a wraith anymore.”

Eskel looks away, a tremble in his chin the only betrayal of his emotions.

Sleep calls to him. He’s exhausted. But he won’t rest. Not yet. 

He promised Lambert that he would keep watch. 

Slowly, he lowers the blanket slightly, revealing the toy. A little torn in places, with some of the rags inside poking through the hole. 

He sighs, gently tucking the rag back. “I’ll buy a needle and thread in the town.”

Vesemir nods. “We may be able to get it cleaned as well.”

Eskel smiles despite everything, tucking the blanket back over the stuffed cat as Lambert begins to mumble in his sleep, tucking his face into the toy and breathing in.

“He’s safe. You both are.” Eskel whispers.

Curled up on his side in the nest of blankets and bedroll, Lambert sleeps peacefully now, Eskel’s hand stroking through his hair. The only sound in the room is his gentle breathing until the older witcher starts to hum, muttering words to a lullaby under his breath. 

Vesemir sits next to his eldest son. “You should get some sleep too, Eskel.”

Eskel shakes his head. “I promised him I’d keep watch.”

Vesemir sighs, before making his way around the bed and climbing in the other side. He curls up behind Lambert, draping his arm over the sleeping Witcher and resting his hand against Lambert’s chest. 

And the precious item that the youngest witcher is holding against it. 

“Wake me in a few hours.” Vesemir commands. “I will take over.”

Eskel nods, still stroking Lambert’s hair as he sits watch. 

“I won’t let anyone hurt him, I promise.” He whispers. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  
  



	2. Render by Embeer2004

The wonderful Embeer2004 ( https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/profile) has made a render for this fic <3 <3

Go tell her how awesome she is ( https://marbienl13.tumblr.com/ )


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